Page 39 of Mine

A drip of my blood drops on the picture. I swipe it away, then stick my finger in my mouth and quickly gather the broken frame—which would be clear evidence of my snooping.

With two handfuls of broken glass, I stand, whirl around, and run out of the room, closing the door behind me.

Movement out the bedroom window catches my eye.

Outside, Astor is standing with his back to the house. He’s wearing a black jacket with the hood pulled up, standing in the pouring rain, unmoving, his head bowed. Alone.

I walk to the window and watch him, transfixed by the growing enigma that is this man. Somehow, I can feel his pain.

Rain pounds his shoulders. He doesn’t notice.

Thunder rumbles overhead. He doesn’t notice.

Slowly, he lowers onto his knees, doubles over, and drops his head in his hands. His body shudders with emotion.

He’s crying.

I can now see what he was looking at.

In front of him are two small memorials surrounded by dozens of blooming daffodils. One is marked with a small white cross, obviously new. The other with an identical pink cross, dingy and faded.

One belongs to his wife, the other to his daughter.

Twenty-Three

Dear Butterfly,

My heart aches for you. Every hour, every minute, every second.

When I close my eyes, I see you, I hear you, I smell you, for you have been forever imprinted on my soul.

But I can’t see you.

I can’t hear you.

I can’t smell you.

I can’t touch you.

The absence of you is felt in every inch of this house, in the vacancy of my soul. In the death that now resides in my body, the nothingness that has become as much of me as my beating heart, in the hole that materialized the moment you left.

The moment I failed you.

The moment I failed myself.

The moment I died inside.

The moment my life, whatever it is now, became defined by grief, regret, and guilt.

I wish it had been me instead of you. Oh God, how I wish that.

I was not ready to say good-bye, in the same way that I was not ready to say everything I should have.

I will never forgive myself. Not now, not ever. Instead, I am now wholly prepared for my death, my fate, the end of whatever became of me the moment you forever left my life.

I welcome death because then I know the pain will be over.

I miss you more than words can say.

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